


The Omega Center

by TedraKitty



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Kidnapping, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28859808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TedraKitty/pseuds/TedraKitty
Summary: Omega Centers help to find homes for underage or lost omegas. They also function as job centers or matchers for apprenticeships. That being said, there are sometimes people that use them for their own personal shopping center....Steve was wary, of course, of the home he was placed in, but he wasn't stupid; not by a long shot.
Relationships: Arnim Zola/Thaddeus Ross, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	The Omega Center

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aquatigermice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquatigermice/gifts).



Clint dragged him out for a “spa day.” He claimed it was tradition. Natasha just laughed and reminded them to pick up ice cream on the way home.   
  
_ They’d certainly made it a home. _

Mud wraps and exfoliating were all well and good but he was adamant about keeping his “happy trail;” sparse as it was. Steve wasn’t sure, but he suspected Clint used “losing” the argument on waxing to leverage against his next proposal of buying thick knit sweaters, new jeans, and faux-fur lined wool gloves for them both.    
  
Steve stubbornly insisted on buying their lunch, grumbling good-naturedly.    
  
Moving to the Omega Center as soon as he came of age was one of the best decisions he’d ever made. He’d missed his Ma of course, but they chatted every day. Everyone missed  _ someone  _ when they first got there.   
  
Over peppermint cocoa at the food court, he’d shown Steve the quickest ways to get out of zipties, how to pick a handcuff lock, and a few painful pressure points he hadn’t already known. He didn’t bother telling Clint that Ma had been teaching him from the first time he presented. By the time they finished off their cocoa, and the plate of complementary sticky buns the donut place sent over, there was quite a crowd.    
  
“Not that I’m not grateful, but why all the extra attention Clint?” Steve asked bluntly after they finally extracted themselves with promises of another demonstration the next day. 

Steve was betting he brought Natasha. The petite redhead was perfect for this. Not even Steve knew her designation. Their triad with Phil was not a traditional one, but it worked.   
  
“We worry about you -” Clint said gently, starting to continue, but Steve interrupted him.   
  
“Is this because I’m  _ ‘a omega’ or because I could never pass for one _ -” This time it was Steve that was interrupted.   
  
“Sorry. It’s not anything to do with your designation, or the way you look. Honest! You're a great omega!"    
  
He said softly, “We’re worried about you because you always stand up for everyone else. You don’t back down from anyone -- or any fight. Most of all, you will throw yourself into harm's way to save someone else; no matter what. You are one of the bravest people we know, omega or not.”   
  
Steve’s impulsive hug caught Clint off guard and they went down in a heap.   
  
“You are also the most accident-prone klutz, aside from me, that any of us has ever met!” Clint’s teasing was familiar territory at least.    
  
Half-heartedly pushing him as they struggled to get up without injury or falling again, he grinned at his friend. “At least I didn’t fall in a dumpster!”    
  
At Clint’s squawk of outrage Steve took off running. He couldn’t help but grin at the memory.    
  
_ He wished Clint was here now. _   
  
====   
  
It wasn't that he couldn't believe it or that it was that far fetched. He just wished he didn't have to. They'd given no indication of their plans. They seemed pretty progressive, or The Omega Center would never have placed him there. 

The Center was fierce in its protection of "their" omegas. They were not fooling around when they claimed to have the highest successful placement record. Steve had no idea how these two had gotten past Clint and Natasha, but they must've pulled some real tricks to get past Phil. 

There were no pamphlets or flyers lying around, no "The Omega's Place" books, they didn't make outrageous statements on their Facebook pages.

He'd snooped, of course he had, as soon as he was placed. 

He'd waited until they were asleep, or gone for the day, then rifled through every single drawer and closet. He'd checked again and again those first few weeks. Everyone had heard of the horror stories about  _ those  _ kinds of omega placements. Even alphas and betas talked about it in hushed whispers. He was pretty sure this Center wasn't like the ones run by the usual knotheads; that they wouldn’t have placed him somewhere with fanatics, but he wasn’t holding his breath. No matter how much he liked Phil, Clint, and Nat, there was always someone higher up the chain of command.    
  
_ He learned that one the hard way. _

Still.   
  
There had been _nothing. Not a hint._   
  
They had recipes, pictures of their blue-ribbon show dogs, and even had a few friends with nonstandard relationships they seemed to enjoy FaceTiming with. It was perfect. He should've known when they'd given up the dogs in anticipation of being selected.

_ He let his guard down. _

He started to trust them. He stopped searching the house every time they went out and did random spot checks instead. He’d even shown them his sketch book. Not the real one, the private one, but it was a step he wouldn’t have made if they had shown even a smidge of this - this -  _ vileness _ .   
  


_ His mistake. _

====

It was just a tiny slip, a simple misplaced page that clued him in. Someone had set paperwork on the small end table and one slipped off onto the floor. Such a small thing.    
  
_ He’d almost ignored it. _

He hadn't been feeling well for a couple days. Showing sympathy, they'd encouraged him to lie down and take a sick day or three. They brought in soup, sweets, blankets, and extra pillows; both separately and together.    
  
_ He didn't suspect a thing.  _

On day two he'd dragged himself out of bed after waking up in a pool of sick-sweat and tiptoed quietly down the hall to the bathroom. The nightlights shone weakly from the bathroom, lighting his way. It must be late then. The caretakers always went to bed early.  
 _  
_ _He could have missed it._ _  
_ _  
_Walking quieter, so he didn’t wake them, he slid the door shut with a barely audible click. He froze; his senses screaming at him there was something wrong. They’d rearranged the bathroom.  
  
 _It was weird._   
  
He looked around the room, taking in the subtle changes. They’d changed out the fresh flowers in a squared off vase by the sink for a small dog statue. Steve wrinkled his nose at the alpha-styled plain guest soaps overflowing the dish. He had like the kitschy seashore theme soaps they had before. Even the towels were different. They were laid out nicely, but were rougher and had simple geometric shapes instead of seashells. Sniffing, he realized what had tripped the alarms sounding in his head. They’d installed a new scent diffuser.   
  
_It smelled like sandalwood and rainstorms._  
  
He shook his head. It was probably nothing. Just because sandalwood was popular with the traditionalists and their cult-esque followers, didn’t mean anything. It could be a coincidence. They probably just felt like a change. It was just strange enough to be noticed because they'd never really shown any bias about secondary genders. Most traditionalists would play up the gender norms, but it wasn't something he'd seen in the months since he was placed. After finishing up and wetting his face, he'd prepared to sneak just as quietly back into bed.

_That's when he spotted it._   
  
The half slip of paper sticking out from beneath the baseboard of the wall. Still feeling the overall crappiness he had been dealing with, he hesitated to even bend over to grab it. It looked like only part of a slip of paper. Besides, he told himself, it was the least he could do after being so paranoid about a change in bathroom decorations.  
  
 _He’d almost convinced himself it was nothing._  
  


Lowering himself carefully so he didn’t upset his queasy stomach any further, he started to edge the not-so-small-as-he-thought paper out from its hiding space. He froze when he heard the sound of voices, raised and angry, coming from behind the wall.   
  
_ Who the hell were these people?! _   
  
“It was bad enough that you brought that wanna-be alpha instead of a  _ real _ omega. I gave you a chance! You promised me pups!” The sound of a sharp slap and the furious whisper-shouts made him want to vomit as they continued to discuss him. There was no mistaking their intentions.   
  


_ They were discussing him as though he were a thing to be sold. _   
  
There was a crash that sounded like glass shattering against the wall. Startled, he looked down, fully expecting the shards to spill from under the edge of the baseboard. He was so pissed at the thought of being nothing more than a commodity. He'd be property at best. 

_No, no it was worse than that.  
  
_ _  
_ _  
_The shouts began to get louder. "I wanted a pedigree! You brought home a _mongrel!"_ There was another slap _._   
  
He caught himself leaning forward to hear the conversation better as the voice took on a vicious edge. “If that omega doesn’t whelp, I swear I will bitch you myself and _you’ll be taking his place!”_ _  
_ _  
_The second voice was raising into a whiny shout. "You know it's not guaranteed! It's possible it's not a rejection. It could be pre-heat!"  
 _  
_ _They'd drugged him._  
  
That must be the reason he was feeling so shitty. Another crash followed by a yelp made Steve grateful for the wall separating the voices from him.  
  
It had to be a knock-off of the beta’s heat-inducers. Now that he knew what to look for he recognized the symptoms. If they’d bothered to look it up, the OC already knew he had a poor reaction to them.   
  
_He was so fucked if he didn't get the hell out of here_ ** _right fucking now._**

Paling, he stood abruptly, leaving the paper on the floor. For once in his crappy life, he was in exactly the right place at the right time. He could still hear their furious almost-shouts, and edged away from the not-wall.  
  
One accidental medication mix-up from the on-duty nurse and he’d been knocked on his ass with the worst migraine and nausea in his life. Thor had been immediately apologetic, bringing crosswords, coloring books and a handful of colored pencils. It was actually Dr. Loki’s wry humor and ginger-mint tea that got him through the worst of it though.   
  
Beta and omega-only medications were already strictly regulated against trafficking, but mixups still happened occasionally. It was his own fault really, he’d been the one chattering at Thor; distracting him. They’d missed seeing the pills that rolled off the tray into his coffee after he’d jostled it. When the bloodwork came back, they’d apparently reviewed the camera footage. Director Coulson had stopped by to talk with him shortly after he recovered, then instituted stricter protocols to keep it from happening again.  
  
 _He was so glad this one was a shitty knock-off instead of the real deal._ _  
_ _  
_Of course, if they had _asked_ about heat-inducer allergies, the OC would’ve caught on. He walked quickly back to ~~his~~ their room and gathered just enough of his things, that it looked like he was still there, but he took everything important with him. Fortunately, he'd not been quite so stupid as to unpack his go-bag. Every omega with an ounce of sense had a go-bag _._ _  
_  
Climbing out the window and dropping into the snowbank was not easy or without its problems, but at least nothing was broken. They’d underestimated him and allowed him to pick a first floor bedroom, or he’d have broken his neck trying to get away. Trudging through the sludge left over from the night’s sleet to the OC made him ridiculously grateful for the thick soled half-boots that were fashionable for omega-wear this year.  
  


====

  
He blamed the ice and cold for his lack of attention.    
  
But then, of course, he wouldn’t have met Bucky; or rescued Becca. _ He wouldn’t change it for anything. _   
  
====   
  
Some people were such _ jerks.  _   
  
Fuck the pack of knot-headed alpha assholes that saw him walking by the puddle of snowmelt.   
  
They  _ saw him. _ _   
_   
They saw him and they drove fast and close through the freezing water  _ purposely _ . He was smart enough to jump back; but got splashed anyway.    
  
He could feel the icy sludge making its way down his back. It had slipped under his collar when the wave of icy water crashed into him. His face and clothes were still dripping nasty street water.    
  
He was soaked and pissed off at the stupidity of people being horrible to someone just for the sake of it. He honestly just wanted to get back to the Center, let his friends know what was going on at the Ross-Zola household, and  _ take a freaking hot bath.  _ _   
_ _   
_ It was mostly understandable that he didn’t hear the fight before he turned down the alley.    
  
He was searching his pockets to find something mostly dry enough to wipe his face. He didn’t expect to be wiping his face off on the back of some asshole holding a struggling kid. 

He grimaced at the reek of both alpha and unwashed body odor coming from the bulky body he’d run into. The scent of horse sweat and smoke wouldn’t have been a terrible scent combination; not a compatible one either, but not terrible. Or, at least, it wouldn’t have been if it weren’t overpowered by the reek of cigarettes, armpit stink, and what smelled like crotch rot.   
  
Bouncing off the oaf and onto his ass didn't improve his mood; if anything, it pissed him off more. It did give him a clear view of the three other alphas dismissing him entirely to continue jeering at the bulkier one. It was infuriating how people thought that he wasn’t a threat. Sometimes though, it came in handy. He was just happy they were out of scenting range; especially if they smelled like this asshat did. From the looks of their greasy, unkempt appearance, they probably stank even  _ worse  _ than this dude. If that was possible.   
  
To top it all off, he now had something vaguely squishy crumpled under him, and the sickly sweet smell was adding to his losing battle with his stomach.    
  
“You ain’t gonna let the little ‘meggie get away with that, are ya? Don’t be such a limpknot!” The asshole he’d bounced off of shook the smaller omega and yelped when the ‘little meggie’ landed a particularly well placed kick.   
  
The swat Limpknot laid on the poor omega was hard enough to ring some bells if Steve was any judge.   
_   
_ Scrambling to his knees, he considered his options since they weren’t counting him as a threat -- yet. There were only a few usable items within quick reach, and he was running out of time. The feisty teen was holding their attention for now, but it wouldn’t last long.   
  
He considered the scant items around him within reach; a beer bottle, a small piece of brick, and a trash can lid someone had forgotten when they threw their bags in the dumpster. There might’ve been more useful things buried in the pile of boxes leaning against the alley wall, but they were too far away to be of any help.   
  
_ He was so going to regret this in the morning. _ _   
_ _   
_ He grabbed the brick piece, whistled sharply to get their attention, shouted “hey rutters!” then threw the brick straight at the pack of numbnuts still leaning against the alley wall.    
  
He nailed one right in the stomach; causing them to bend over just as his buddy was walking forward. The resulting knee to the face started a quick tussle between them. They roughly grappled, each trying to throw the other into the wall. Briefly distracted by the impromptu wrestling match, Limpknot loosened his grip on the kid.    
  
_ With a little luck they’d be out of here soon. _   
  
While they were acting like the feral jackasses they pretended to be, Steve grabbed the lid to the trash can as a shield. He wasn’t going down without a fight, but he was wasn’t stupid enough to think he wouldn’t need something to even his odds.    
  
Taking a chance while the smelly oaf was distracted by his buddies, Steve threw the can lid like a frisbee, hitting him in the back of the head then rushed forward to yank the little one out of his slack grip. Taking a chance, Steve tipped over the pile of boxes hoping for a few more seconds head start.    
  
With an angry yelp, the dumbass whipped around to chase after them… and promptly went down in an undignified heap. Shocked, he slammed into the muddy ground. Sliding hopelessly on the wet boxes as he tried to stand up, he bellowed for his buddies to ‘kill those motherfuckers’.    
  
_ They weren’t exactly sticking around to see if the goon squad chased them.  _

  
They ran like their lives depended on it. It probably did. Unfortunately, this also meant that they were running full out when they skidded into the unexpectedly opened door of a coffee shop. Fortunately for them, it was a sturdy oak instead of the more popular glass.    
  
It also meant that Steve ran into it, and was once again knocked on his ass. At least the poor kid was okay. That’s what he told himself as he held his aching nose. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen.    
  
====   
  
When Bucky had opened the door to the shop, he wasn’t expecting his little sister to nearly run him over. He really wasn’t expecting for the guy chasing her to smash right into it either. He just wanted a little air.    
  
He didn’t have time for this shit.    
  
Dragging the younger guy up by his lapels, he gave him a little shake. Hmm. The poor guy was soaked through. "Why were you chasing her?"

His little sister’s screech of outrage quickly disabused him of the notion. "I'll have you know he saved my life and you're killing him!"

Bucky rolled his eyes at her overdramatics. At fourteen, everything had to be high drama with Becca. Taking a moment, he studied the younger man. He looked like a wet cat. His hair stuck up in tufts, and he looked to be still dressed in pajamas; wet, dirty ones at that. Maybe Becca was right to screech at him, not that he’d tell her. She already thought she was right all the time. Looking over at Becca while doing his best to steady the man, he asked, "What happened? Why aren't you at school?" 

Catching Becca's guilty look as she opened her mouth to explain, Bucky poked his head back into the shop, shouting “Sam! Grab this kid some dry clothes,” then ushered him inside.    
  
“Explain. Now.”

Three phone calls, a police report and a conversation with the nearest Center, and things were as sorted as they were going to get. At least that's what Bucky thought until he caught sight of the “kid” coming out of the employee’s break room.  _ He was beautiful; and definitely not a kid. _ Feeling a little awestruck, Bucky covertly admired the man’s muscular build as he crossed the room. He had always been a sucker for an athletic body, regardless of gender.    
  
“I understand I have you to thank for saving my little sister from those meathead alphas. I’m Bucky.”   
  
There was no reason for his heart rate to pick up. No reason to feel like there was a missing piece just finally slotting into place, but there it was. A simple handshake shouldn’t make him feel giddy and protective. From the look on the guy’s face, the feeling was mutual.    
  
“Can I--? Uhm, I know it’s probably rude, but can I scent you? I think maybe we…?” The way he stuttered and blushed was just so damn cute.    
  
Bucky couldn’t resist stroking his thumb just slightly across the knuckles where their hands were still joined. He watched delighted as his future mate’s blush spread and deepened.    
  
“Of course you can, sweet thing.” Bucky tilted his head, offering the more intimate neck glands to be scented. “What’s your name doll?”   
  
“Steve. My name is Steve.”    
  
Much to Bucky’s disappointment, Steve lifted the hand he was still holding to bare his wrist. The soft snuffles at his glands sent a shiver through him. Heat coiled in his core as he thought of scenting his possible mate in return.    
  
When Steve lowered his hand and looked at him from under his ridiculously long lashes, he groaned, helpless to stop it. “My turn sweetheart, unless you’d rather I didn’t?”    
  
Hoping that Steve wouldn’t refuse him the privilege of scenting him in return, he slowly lifted their joined hands. The scent of mint and rain made his mouth water. Reluctantly, he allowed his mate’s hand to drop. “You smell amazing. Stevie, sweetness, tell me you felt it? Are you mine?”   
  
“Yours. Always yours.” He cleared his throat, “but before we uhm try to figure out what this means for us, I need to call the Center.” Steve looked a little steadier as Bucky guided him to his seat.   
  
“What’s wrong Stevie? Are you okay?” He asked as he handed over his cell. “Be sure you put your number in there too. I don’t want to lose you now that I’ve found you.”   
  
“What happened with the little one? Is she okay?”    
  
They both burst out in laughter as they realized they had both started talking at the same time. ‘Go ahead’ and ‘no you first’ had them chuckling again. Bucky reassured Steve that Becca was fine, and that their mother was taking care of her. She was probably chewing her out for skipping school, but that Becca was okay.   
  
Bucky mimed zipping his lips just to see Steve smile again. The soft giggle it earned him was worth it.    
  
His face settling into a more serious look, Steve gave him the cliff notes version while he waited for the Center to answer. Putting the call on speaker, Steve laid out the events that led him to Bucky’s door.    
  
Hearing Clint’s voice on the line, he shook his head. Of course his best friends would be the ones Steve reached out to. Bucky gave Steve’s hand a gentle squeeze and went in search of warm drinks and some food for them. Steve was in good hands.    
  
====   
  
Clint, Natasha and Phil were thrilled to be among the witnesses at their best friend and favorite client’s wedding. They were less than thrilled to find that Justin Hammer, one of their interns, had been slipping their client list to Doctor Zola. Fortunately, with Steve’s testimony, their haphazard omega smuggling ring was captured and sentenced to life in prison. It turned out that Steve would’ve been their first omega. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can catch me on Discord servers -- [Stuckony](https://discord.gg/jtXcc3n) (maybe snipping?), [BuckysBarn](https://discord.gg/bxSfVQA) (chatting up the other Bucky and Winter appreciators and probably writing or drawing for the Winter Soldier Challenge), and [WriterBuddies](https://discord.gg/4KWWccK) (Writing and drawing definitely for the Weekly Prompts; where all the wonderful Creativity Creature are stuffing their Muses full of Catnip and spawning new ideas, creating drool-worthy art, and pompoming all the amazing fics for me to devour...)


End file.
